She was an absolutely wonderful woman. She was so talented and loving and gifted. She could make everybody in the world smile, but at the same time, she was never a joke. She was diagnosed with the demon that finally ended her light very early in life.
Duchenne muscular dystrophy.
I’m not going to tell stories about how much I loved her, because those are mine. They belong to me and there are some things that cannot be shared no matter how good your intentions are. Instead, what I’m going to do, is sit here in my bed at exactly ten on a Saturday evening and tell you a story. Not a made-up one, not a fanciful thing with witches and demons and fairies and gargoyles, it is the story about how I met a woman who changed my life. The magic of the story, if you can call it that, it’s how many times in my rotten fucking life this has happened to me.
I could tell you stories about California, how I fell in love with this sweet little girl when I was a stupid little boy. I asked my mother if she could get her two Cabbage Patch Kid dolls, that’s right, two. That’s practically a dowry.
I could tell you about a lanky ass white boy in an inner-city school looking at a young woman named LaShonda and just finding absolute bliss. She was the only person at that place that was ever even remotely kind to me. She held me down, when I know after the fact that I would have gotten stabbed in the neck.
We’ll skip a mistake or two that happened in my early, middle, and late teens. I think I’ve talked about that enough don’t you?
I was on the internet one day, at the State University of New York College at Brockport computer lab. It was in between classes, this is during that very narrow band of time that I actually attended said College, and I walked into a place on the internet and I found the woman who would eventually honor me with being my wife, give me wonderful children, and teach me more about life than anyone before or since.
Now, there are other names, however I am not a person that likes to talk about people in this particular sense without acquiring a vast amount of permission from them first. So let us say that I have loved many women in my life, and they have all taught me a thing about the world, women, and myself.
I suppose at this point I am kind of babbling, I had a point when I started all of this, I promise I did, but the fact that I have to sit here for a week and look forward, or dread rather, watching a funeral via streaming webcast is really fucking with my head, so I’m just going to talk until I don’t want to anymore if that’s okay. I won’t get mad if nobody reads this, I just needed to say the things inside of my head so they wouldn’t gnaw at me over and over.
It’s an amazing thing you know, the human mind. Things that it can do to make you stay sane when all you want to do is dive into that Lovecraftian abyss that we all have inside of us.
You may not think that I was being serious in that last sentence, but seeing as I am reading an entire book about Lovecraft and film noir, I’d like to believe that I have a vague idea of what I’m talking about.
Goddess I should have gotten fucking wasted tonight.
Instead of up in my bedroom talking into my telephone. I’m telling it things that I should tell people, I’m hiding from people who I should be talking to, I just want the world to go away for just a few hours and let me figure out why Insanity seems to be the card that comes up every single day. Why a 19-year-old gets taken and the devil walks on the Earth.
I suppose, in retrospect, all I can really do is just look back and smile. Look back and smile at the sublime happiness that I was given with these people, with that sweet girl, and be thankful that I was given any happiness at all when so many people don’t get that at all, never mind multiple times in their lifetime.
So since I’m already crying, I think I will just say things that are matter of fact.
I plan on doing a podcast now that I have recorded poem things. I plan on writing more about all of the stories that I have postponed in the last couple of weeks due to life being such a colossal damned thing. I plan on writing, and if one person gets their cards just right, I’m actually going to sing a song from fucking Les Miserables. Not that I’m promising, Still. You Know Who You Are.
So on that note maybe I’ll wander downstairs and see what’s in the liquor cabinet, fire up the old computer and see if I can lose myself in code and programming and meaningless computation that just sucks every part of me into it and I can just blissfully forget that the world is a thing that I have to pay attention to even if it’s for just a little while.
I had a blog once upon a time and every time I would end a post, I would say the same thing, I think I’m going to continue that tradition.
To all of those that would receive them I ask the Goddess to bless you, and I bid you peace.
© 2018, TheJameyBear. All rights reserved.